Within the scorpion's belly,
mother's blood is the meal.
I wonder,Is that's why scorpion is poisonous?
But be the lamb of sheep or the child of scorpion,Both are young sprouts.
I wonder, so does the scorpion taste "sweetness that linger on tongue,
A piercing pain in the throat, the soul torn apart".
~Byeol
With the thousands troop, I the general stride.
Below the land of ancestors pride.
Where dragon soars and tiger leaps with might.
For this, my sword tainted with river of blood.
Bears felony's weight , a mountain heavy tide.
My heart a rock, no regret, no shame reside.
~Byeol
------------------------------------------------------------
Land of ancestors: homeland
Dragon soars and tiger leaps: showing powerful prospering nation
(From1)
Snowflakes whisper peace, in Frozen air,
Echoes of battle, comrade beyond repair.
(Form2)
Alone I stand, in snowy vastness wide,
Blood- soaked memories, my comrade demise.
(Form3)
Before me, snow's pure silence deep,
Behind crimson shadows, comrades sleep.
~Byeol
This is my translation for a really old Chinese poem called ?? which literally means plum blossoms. Hope I captured the essence of this beautiful poem
Young plum blossoms slumber with snowflakes,
A lonely sight that painters despair to capture in its glory,
Scents delicate graceful,
The one of a kind,
In the wintry garden.
Such an aura of elegance was that of the plum blossoms.
They had forgotten, or had-
Never known raw bleakness of winter
Somewhere, sounded a mournful tune from a faraway flute,
I leaned in, listening.
Ah, Gentle Northern wind,
If only you had known the virtues of the plum blossoms-
How easily they break and wither,
And yet how fiercely they bloom day after day
Would you have the heart to ravage them still?
This is my translation of a Chinese poem and my own modern-day reply
Night at the River
Tang Shigu
Lonely autumn on the river
Fishermen’s lights dot the night
Lift my head to see the moon tip faint gleam upon the trees
Shore birds startled by the shimmering waves
Soon tuck their heads again in sleep
Cold dew clings damp and keeps the fireflies from flight
My response to Tang Shigu’s Night at the River
The fireflies live in books
The fishermen gone, pleasure boats trace shining lines through city lights
arranged in rows, blocks and sheets
with scant place for moonbeams, even full
Our birds know only darkness trimmed
Ignore electric glow and neon flash
Only autumn stays the same, damp and grey
With fading colours, naked trees
This constancy of the heart’s lonely sigh
"You can't arrive at domestic Harmony without
the Journey."
What doesn't move
Is the Mountain nearby;
But it does endure
Because of the trees.
Rustic, mossy tree
roots like great tentacles stretch
deep into the earth
Solid foundation of strength
as leaves revive in the sun
© Joseph, 6/1/07
© All Rights Reserved
Tanka is a classical Chinese poem consisting of 5 lines with a syllable count of
5/7/5/7/7. It can be traced to the 5th century. It does not rhyme and uses no
punctuation. Traditionally, the tanka begins with an observation of a natural
scene in the first 3 lines and then the non-rhyming couplet at the end reflects on
the observation.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.